Brew a Bottle of Love
by Limitbreaker
Summary: To remain free of Azkaban Draco is forced to work at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes for one year. Doesn't sound too bad at first, but Draco soon realises how hard twelve months in the whirlwind of George Weasley's contrasting emotions truly are… Slash.
1. The beginning…

**The beginning…**

"These are the facilities that have offered you community service, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco stared at the blank parchment that lay in front of him. He lifted his gaze back to the Minister's assistant, Percy Weasley, and found himself confronted with a polite smile. Unable to tell if Weasley was joking, Draco shoved the parchment back towards him.

"There's nothing written on it," he drawled.

Weasley's mouth twitched and he suddenly let out a chuckle that startled Draco. Shifting in his chair, he offered Weasley a wary look and watched the freckled cheeks slowly become red.

"Not funny?" Weasley looked hopeful, but Draco remained cold.

"Not funny," he said and leant back in his chair, folding his arms in front of his chest. "Where's my list?"

Weasley pointed at the blank parchment. "I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy. This is everything we can offer you."

"You offer me _nothing_?" Draco was shocked. Although he knew that after the War it would have been hard for him to find a job, he had not expected that there was not even one person that would engage him even for _no_ money.

"There's nothing I can do. Your name is well-known, Mr. Malfoy," Weasley said and folded his fingers on his desk, forming a perfect triangle on Draco's blank parchment. "The people are scared to work with a former Death Eater from V-Voldemort's inner circle."

"Inner circle? I wasn't engaged in any activity of the inner circle. I was… _am_ a teenager." Draco hoped that his pouting mouth would give him the same advantage that it did during his hearing. Otherwise he would definitely have ended up in Azkaban for his Death Eater activities, instead of only being forced to work for the community. But if no one wanted him to even dispose of the dragon dung at Gringotts, then Azkaban was certainly waiting for him.

Weasley eyed him over the top of his glasses. "We have detailed information in which activities you were involved, Mr. Malfoy."

Apparently, Draco's puppy eyes did not work with Weasley. He tried harder.

"I was _scared_. Like everyone else," Draco said, leaning forward to make sure Weasley saw every glittery tear Draco forced into his eyes. "Isn't there anything you can do? I don't want to go to Azkaban."

"I can't think of anyone who would want that," Weasley replied dryly.

Draco pressed a hand against his eyes as real tears welled up. Azkaban was as good as a return to the nightmare he had lived during the last year. He would be reunited with a lot of familiar faces, who would love to see him dead because his mother helped Harry Potter. This might have helped him escape Azkaban at first, but it had not rebuilt his reputation in the wizarding community. It certainly had destroyed the last remaining bits of sympathy he had held within the Dark Lord's circle.

Azkaban would be his death.

"There might be another option…" Weasley's voice made Draco look up, hope suddenly flaring in his chest. "You can search yourself –"

Draco interrupted him with a snort. "I barely have time to suck up to someone until he offers me a place to work. The Ministry will send me to Azkaban before that happens."

Weasley pressed his lips into a firm line and stared intensely at Draco. Then he cleared his throat. "I might be able to… to offer you a position."

"At the Ministry?" Draco asked warily.

Weasley laughed. "No, no… a Malfoy at the Ministry… That would be… no…" He laughed again and turned the noise into a soft cough when Draco scowled at him. "I remember you having a talent for Potions, Mr. Malfoy?"


	2. 12 months to go…

**12 months to go…**

Draco let out a heavy sigh as he took in the sight of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. He clung to a file with parchments from Percy Weasley – documents his brother had to sign to ensure Draco could work the next year in his shop.

"What did your puppy eyes get you into this time, Draco?" Shaking his head, Draco approached the shop, cautiously looking inside through the windows. There were too many children inside. Draco hated children. He also hated Weasleys and Percy Weasley had earned more antipathies by sending him straight to his brother.

It still was better than Azkaban, so Draco entered the shop. Promptly some laughing children bumped into him when they headed for the exit. Draco lost hold of his file and the parchments fell to the floor.

Cursing under his breath, Draco moved to gather up his documents. A pair of shoes stepped into his view and Draco looked up.

George Weasley stared back at him. From Draco's perspective, his brown eyes seemed strangely dark and scary, especially with the blank expression he wore. His fiery red hair was combed so that it covered his missing ear. Draco tried not to stare at it.

"These are the documents?" George ducked next to Draco on the ground, picking up the parchments.

Draco pulled his hands away before he touched George's fingers. He nodded.

"Percy owled me," George said and straightened. He did not hold out a hand to Draco. Not that Draco expected that. "Follow me. I'll show you where you'll be working." He turned around and walked at a high speed through the store, aiming for a door that apparently led into the cellar.

Draco sighed. Great. A year in a dark and moist cellar. His skin would never recover its healthy tone.

They had to climb steep stairs down and Draco had trouble not falling into George's back. He steadied himself by holding onto the wall and grimaced when he noticed the web of a spider.

"Fred worked here most of the time, since he was in charge of the potions," George explained when they reached the bottom of the stairs. It was a small room with long tables and half a dozen cauldrons. On the wall, shelves were filled with vials and large bottles; next to them stood an empty cage. There were also pictures hanging on the otherwise empty, cold stone walls. Draco grimaced at the sight of a barely clothed woman waving lasciviously at him, but he did not say anything.

"We're in arrears with quite a few potions. Especially the Love Potion," George said and placed the documents on one table, then bent down to open a drawer. He handed another parchment to Draco. "This is your to-do-list."

Draco ripped the parchment out of George's hand and looked it over. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed George signing the papers. A knot in his throat loosened at the sight. Goodbye Azkaban.

"For today?" Draco stayed on the opposite side of the table, not wanting to come too close to George. He had not expected a warm welcome, but even Percy Weasley had been nicer to him at their first meeting a couple of weeks ago. At least he had shaken his hand.

George looked up and seemed confused. "You have until the end of the week," he muttered and turned back to the parchments.

Draco's mouth twitched. A year in a cellar with lots of free time to take care of his skin. Actually, that did not sound too bad.

"What do you need Shrinking Solution for?" Draco asked as he tried to decipher George's scrawl.

George snorted in annoyance. "Pygmy puffs."

"The little, fluffy balls?" Draco noticed that George's hand started shaking at this question. "Don't tell me you truly shrink Puffskeins. Isn't that abuse of Magical Creatures? There's certainly a law –"

George's quill cracked. Draco broke off, surprised. Brown eyes focused on him, and now Draco realised that it was hate that made them appear so dark.

"Don't tell me anything about laws, Malfoy. Don't tell me anything at all, okay? You're not here to ask questions. You're here to brew potions." George pulled out his wand to fix the quill and returned to the documents.

Draco raised a hand in defence. "You're the boss." He would definitely not risk losing his only opportunity to escape Azkaban. It was probably better that George hated him. He would stay in this cellar and brew potions while being watched by almost naked women, instead of dealing with a Weasley. Draco could live with that.

"They don't breed as fast as we expected," George eventually muttered, feeling the need to explain himself. Draco smirked.

"Want me to come up with an aphrodisiac for the fluffy cuteness?" he asked, trying hard not to laugh at the image of a dozen pygmy puffs engaged in sexual activity.

George covered his laughter with a cough. "You're not here to think, Malfoy. You do whatever I want you to do. And I don't want to note that you're here."

Draco took the documents George shoved across the table. "I can manage that."

"Great." George walked back to the stairs. "You get along without my help."


	3. 11 months to go…

**11 months to go…**

It could have been worse. Draco's day appeared to start early and end late, but he truly had more free time than was good for him. He spent hours sitting in front of half a dozen cauldrons waiting for his potions to become ready for the next step. Even after he had tried to brew the potions so that one was ready for the next step while the others needed to boil, it was not getting more interesting. It was simply swallowing time.

Draco, full of disgust, stared at the poster of the naked woman – and the longer he stared at it the more clothes disappeared – while he waited for the potions to cool down so that he could funnel them into vials. He had thought about asking George if he could take the poster down, but since it seemed to be the property of his brother, he felt extremely unsure about this. Everything concerning his deceased twin was a tough topic.

Even in his cellar, Draco had heard George yelling. Yelling at his own brother about making a suggestion how to improve the daily settlements, at his best friend because of something banal like breaking an old quill, and considering this, Draco rather remained silent.

"I know it's an interesting poster, but –"

"What?" Draco whirled around and glared at Verity, George's only female staff member. She was also the only one who was actually polite and kind to him, probably because she was a woman. Draco had never really understood why women were unable to resist him. They should sense that he was not interested.

"The way you were staring at it is obvious," Verity said. The way she played with her hair, tilted her head and smiled at him was ridiculously obvious.

Draco rolled his eyes. "It's disgusting. I wish I could take it down."

Apparently, this was not obvious enough to put an end to the clumsy flirtation. It brightened Verity's smile.

"Oh, you don't know how delightful it is to hear that! Sometimes I wish the others would act more gentlemanly…" Finally Verity said why she truly was down in the dungeon. "Speaking of gentlemen… I could need your help for a moment."

Draco looked at his cauldrons and the steam swirling up from their depths. "I've got time, but –"

"Wonderful!" Verity grabbed his arm and pulled him upstairs, completely ignoring Draco's attempt to remind her that George did not want him upstairs. Maybe Verity had kept this in mind, because George was not in the shop when Draco looked around.

Jordan behind the counter waved at him, his extraordinarily white teeth a high contrast to his dark skin.

"I need help putting these new products onto the shelves. Lee takes care of the customers, so you and I can totally focus on this."

Draco stared at the quite unstable looking ladder and he reached into his pocket to pull out his wand, but Verity hastily shook her head.

"No magic," she warned and pointed at the packages on the ground. "They're quite fragile and we don't want to risk –"

"Letting them fall?" Draco put his wand away.

"That they blow up the store." Verity smiled at him and then moved to open the packages. Draco had already learned not to protest and risk this quite comfortable place to fulfil his community service. So he climbed onto the ladder and put strange glass spheres onto the shelves. Something glittered inside them; a strange misty dust of crystal that changed colour when Verity pulled them out of the package and then once more when she gave them to Draco.

"What are these?" he asked after a while, his curiosity increasing even more since Verity kept talking about her cat having kittens which he 'really should visit because they were so, so cute!'

"Oh, they're…"

"Verity?" Jordan seemed to have waited for this opportunity to keep Draco's curiosity from being satisfied. "Need you for a moment," he called. Verity gifted Draco an apologetic look before she hurried away.

Draco felt used, but climbed down the ladder to unpack the next package. It would be way easier to just Summon them up to the shelves and he truly doubted that those glass things with crystal dust would blow anything up. It just seemed to be a rule at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes to work in the most inefficient way; otherwise George would have long noticed that no one needed a week to brew Shrinking Solution.

Staring into the violet dust of crystal, Draco climbed back up the ladder. The dust seemed to start out white, change colours when touched, then turn back to white again as soon as he put it onto the shelf. Verity's dust had turned green. Draco wished he knew how she had done that. He definitely preferred green to violet.

Draco continued to put the glass spheres on the shelf and from time to time looked over his shoulder. Jordan at the counter hastily lowered his arm. Suspiciously, Draco narrowed his eyes. If that bastard tried to throw something at him, again, he would take advantage of Verity's sympathies and cry on her shoulder until she spanked that nasty bastard. But who knew – he might like it…

"What're you doing up here, Malfoy?"

Being addressed so suddenly caused Draco to cringe. He clung to the ladder and looked down. George had come through the door and stared up at Draco like he just caught him robbing the store.

"Verity asked me for help." Draco smiled, smiled into a face that always stayed uncommonly frosty around him.

"Verity?" While George searched the shop for hints of Verity, Draco decided that it was better to come down. After all, George did not want him up here, just in the cellar, and the cellar was Draco's protection from Azkaban, so this year, to be precise only eleven months left, he would do what George Weasley wanted him to do.

Something hard hit his ankle when Draco went to place his foot on a lower step. He lost balance and as he fell backwards he realised that he cared more about not crashing the new products instead of his bones – because in Azkaban even all of his bones could not protect him.

Protect him, like the arms that caught him. It was a lucky coincidence that George was standing right behind Draco so that he was forced to wrap his arms at just the right moment around Draco. Draco bumped roughly against the chest suddenly in his back; he could feel every hard and every soft spot of George's body, and almost tore him down as well.

But George was still standing, and when Draco turned his head to look at him, he yelled over his shoulder: "Damn it, Lee! I saw that!"

"I didn't do anything!" Came the answer, which Draco knew was a lie. But he also knew that George cared more about his products – and well, maybe Draco was sort-of a product for him now. Who would brew George's potions quickly with such quality when he died because of Lee Jordan's dislike?

But whatever George called back about the danger Lee put his products in did not really get through to Draco, because George was still holding him. Draco stood safely on both his feet and George's arms were still there, as though this was a comfortable position.

It was not. Definitely not. Draco gulped hard when George turned back to him. Instead of letting go, he stared at Draco out of his normally hard eyes. Whatever was wrong resulted in them softening up, and Draco feared that it may have been the little blush that had reached his cheeks.

"You all right, Malfoy?"

Draco nodded. With his tongue feeling like it was glued to the roof of his mouth, he could not say something even if anything imaginative had occurred to him.

"Good." George stepped away from Draco, taking his sensible warmth and memorable smell with him. "Then go back into your cellar. I don't want to see you here."

Draco had never been gladder about this order.


	4. 10 months to go…

**10 months to go…**

Ten months to go and Draco realised that sitting in a dark, lonely cellar gave him far too much time to think. And he thought about what was wrong when it came to his nasty boss.

George hated him. He looked at him like he was scum. Even Draco's puppy eyes would not stop George from kicking him out in the rain, but still… maybe this tangible dislike was why Draco could not stop thinking about him.

He was thankful for every distraction. May it be Verity's obvious attempts to hit on him or filling puffskeins with Shrinking Solution (although Draco much preferred the latter).

He had one pink puffskein between his legs and dripped the potion cautiously onto the large tongue that had tried to lick him earlier. Big black eyes stared at him, and even as the fluffy body shrunk, they stayed unnaturally huge.

Draco felt something similar to pity for the poor creatures. They were forced to live as small balls on the shoulders of bloody girls that would fall deeply in love with them – and receiving so much love only sounded nice as long as the large tongue stayed undiscovered, because then there was definitely no need for boyfriends.

Yes, weeks alone in a dark cellar had made him slightly weird.

Draco threw the pygmy puff into the cage that stood under the poster of the woman who still tried to get his attention – fruitlessly – and then reached for another. He must have looked so utterly pathetic – sitting beside this enormous mountain of fluffiness. No one could have held back a chuckle when entering the cellar.

Except for his nasty boss.

"Making progress?" George approached him and Draco was surprised that he did not make a comment about how stupid this looked.

"Yeah… you already need some?" Draco frowned when George shook his head. Why was he down here then?

George stopped behind the wall of puffskeins next to Draco. He picked up a vanilla coloured one to knead it while remaining silent. Draco continued to shrink them. The wall was getting smaller and smaller and Draco more uncomfortable with the decreasing barrier between him and George.

"See…" Finally, George broke the silence. "You said you could… improve their breeding?"

Draco shrugged. "Sure. I just brew them a special bottle of love." He doubted even a pygmy puff orgy would stop his thoughts from wandering to George dangerously often.

George held out his puffskein when Draco reached for a new one. The black eyes begged for his hands and it purred in such an irresistible tone that no one could look away now. There really was something wrong with Draco, because instead he gazed up at George.

"Would you mind trying that out?" George's eyes were still hard as steel so Draco smiled, hoping it turned into the smirk he had tried for.

"You're the boss. Whatever you want me to do…" Draco took the puffskein out of George's hand and noticed that George's fingers twitched towards his direction.

George's stare was boring into him in such an intense way that Draco even sensed it when the gaze focused on the shrinking puffskein. "Yeah, I want that. And I want it as fast as possible. When can you give me any results?"

Draco shrugged again. "Clarify results."

George made a questioning noise.

"Do you want baby pygmy puffs by the end of the month or just a judgement of how long they'll need to produce any?"

George shook his head and waved dismissively at Draco. "Whatever you have…"

"I'll try my best, Boss," Draco said, throwing the next pygmy puff into the cage. When he turned his head a huge puffskein hit his face. It whirled its tongue around Draco's throat before it fell to the ground. When Draco grabbed it and put it into his lap, George was smirking. Draco wanted to yell at him, but he swallowed every comment. George's smirk disappeared again.

"I don't like that," he said and now it was Draco's turn to make a questioning noise. "That you're so submissive."

"I'm whatever I need to be to keep me here."

"So, you'd let me treat you like shite just to stay out of Azkaban? A true coward, Malfoy." George was just trying to provoke him now, but Draco would not let it happen. "Come on, what could happen to you there? All of your friends and even your family waits for you there."

"Exactly," Draco replied. He put the pygmy puff to its new friends in the cage, and George gave him another puffskein. Like they were working together. Draco felt a warm sensation filling his chest.

"You're scared of family and friends? Damn it, Malfoy. What have you done that _everyone_ hates you?" George's question cooled Draco down again.

"Well…" Draco forgot everything about efficiency and stroked the fur of the puffskein for a moment, burying his fingers in rosy fluff. "You and your… kind of people hate me because of the obvious fact that I was a Death Eater. And my kind of people hate me because my family helped Harry Potter." He shrugged and dripped the potion onto the tongue of the puffskein. It was stroking over his arm in an almost comforting way. "It's actually not that complicated," he added. He could not directly tell George how stupid he was not to notice that.

"Yeah… almost forgot that." George held out the next puffskein to Draco and this time their fingers touched somewhere in the messy fur. It was as though something had burned them – they pulled back at exactly the same time and the puffskein bounced to the ground, purring delightfully.

"I need to go back upstairs," George muttered and turned away, before Draco could even nod. He watched George hurrying up the stairs and then pulled the puffskein into his lap. Again a tongue tried to comfort him, but it was definitely not comfort he needed now.

Draco stared at the naked woman, who hastily showed him her backside. It was disgusting enough to distract Draco from the sensation that still tickled in the tips of his fingers.


	5. 9 months to go…

**9 months to go…**

Pygmy puffs had a strange way of love-making. Draco had tried to find out how it worked. It was a mystery for him how they could even figure it out in that mess of fur in the cage. They rolled around and over each other; sometimes they tied their tongues around the bars and then swung from one end of the cage to the other, but no matter what it never looked like sex.

However, it did seem to work. And that was the important thing, because apparently it brought him sympathies. Except when it came to Verity. The only woman in the shop found it disgusting that Draco forced cute fluffy balls to have sex in front of him. Jordan had almost rolled over the floor laughing at Verity's heroically delivered speech for pygmy puff privacy while the Weasel had weaselled around in the background trying to watch what he apparently was not getting at home from his Mudblood. At least Verity had finally stopped asking Draco if he wanted to have lunch with her.

Draco did not feel any regrets about this. His thoughts were with someone else, and when he returned from his lonely lunch break today, this someone stood in front of the cage and stared into it, so engaged in the rolling pygmy puffs that he did not even notice Draco sneaking up on him from behind.

"Still cute, right?" Draco smirked when George winced, but before he could turn around, Draco's mouth was a thin line again.

"Yeah, somehow…" George turned away from the pygmy puffs and held out some parchments to Draco. "I need you to sign these. Since your period of probation is over this ensures that you'll stay for the last nine months."

Draco simply smiled at this. For a change it was not because of the hard look George gave him; it was because he was relieved.

"Percy stops by after half a year for, what do I know… probably to satisfy his control issue." Most likely to make sure that Draco was not being treated like a slave – community service was not equal to slavery.

Draco nodded and turned to the table. He read the parchments quickly and then pulled a quill out of a drawer to sign them. His hand started shaking when George stepped behind him to peer over his shoulder.

"Percy said you should carefully read the fine print." George's arm sneaked underneath Draco's to show him said part of the parchment. His breath was cool against the blush that crept over Draco's neck.

"So?" Draco turned his head. It seemed so long ago that he had been able to count the freckles on George's cheeks. "What'll I find there? My permission to be used as your personal slave?"

George smirked at him and did not move a single inch away. He was not coming closer, but neither was he pulling back, his arm still lying underneath Draco's, brushing his hip.

"If we leave all this bureaucratic shit aside then you _are_ my personal slave, Malfoy. You work for me. It's my decision _where_ I let you work." The corners of George's mouth dropped. "Good for you that you're not worth anything but potions."

Draco tried for a smirk himself. "Don't forget breeding pygmy puffs."

George's lips twitched. He opened his mouth to say something but instead of words a chuckle escaped him. He lowered his head to hide his laughter, but only succeeded in hitting Draco's neck. Draco should have backed away. But he could almost feel George's lips on his skin, could feel the tip of his nose, and when George took a deep breath Draco wondered if his cologne was to George's like.

Apparently it was, because George stayed in his odd position for a long time.

"Sign them," George breathed eventually, and it sounded so much like _'Stay with me'_ that Draco's hand flew over the parchments. "Thanks, Malfoy." George pulled the parchments and his entire body away as soon as Draco had signed.

He watched George walking back upstairs and opened his mouth, but asking his boss to stay and watch pygmy puffs breeding seemed a bit too desperate for his taste, so he closed his mouth again, simultaneously with the noise of the closing cellar door.


	6. 8 months to go…

**8 months to go…**

Draco was unable to tell if his crush was one-sided. A few months ago he would have immediately said that only the loneliness of the cellar could make him believe that George Weasley might feel something else than hate for him, but there were moments… well, Draco was unsure about what to think of George's long glances, the accidental touches when he walked by, and especially his softer expressions.

His brown eyes seemed to brighten, even in the dim light of the cellar, when they focused on Draco. And they did that so often…

Draco could hardly hold back a smirk when George looked _again_ over his shoulder. George was refilling the potion ingredients on the shelf where Draco could watch from his position behind the long table. And every other minute, George turned over his shoulder, watched Draco cutting hellebore and then returned to his task. He rubbed the back of his neck, red strands standing up at his hair line. Draco had noticed the rosy spots on George's neck. He was causing his boss to blush, not very deep though, but maybe he could change that.

The next time George looked at him, Draco smiled. The only effect was that George hastily turned away again. Tightening his grip around his knife, Draco snorted softly. Maybe he should dance and take off his clothes like the woman on the poster to get more attention.

Draco focused on the almost-black root of hellebore. His crush was not so deep that he would do anything to seduce a Weasley. He did not even know why his stomach turned into the perfect nest for butterflies whenever he was close to George. He might be handsome, and he used to be funny, but they should not like each other. A war did not change that.

The War had definitely changed George.

Draco stopped in his movement to cut through the root, eyes, without permission, wandering back to George, the not-dead-twin. Of course the loss of his twin had changed him, but Draco had never known George well enough to tell the big differences. He looked lonely and sometimes stared blankly into nothingness, but maybe George had always been like that. Maybe the sad and lost look only covered the birth of all those mischievous ideas in his head.

Maybe…

"Malfoy?"

Again, being addressed without expectation, made Draco cringe – the negative side-effect was that he slashed his knife right into his index finger.

Draco's jaw clenched as he tried not to show any pain or pull any attention to his mistake, but George's widening eyes told him that it was too late for that.

"Hold on, Malfoy!" George put the bottle he had been holding away.

"It's nothing." Draco was glad that the deep cut filled with blood so that he could not see _how_ deep it truly was. "Happens…"

"Yeah, but that's hellebore juice you had on your knife." George grabbed Draco's wrist and examined the wound.

"I'm not going to die from a drop of hellebore juice in my blood. Maybe I need to use the toilet more often or –" Draco made a high noise of surprise when George took his finger into his mouth. And he was not only sucking on it, his teeth dug hard into the flesh around the cut and increased the stinging burning.

Draco hissed. "What are you doing?"

George released his finger and spit some blood on the table. "I'm sucking the poison out." He flashed Draco a smirk that somehow gave him the impression George only used this as an excuse to get close to him. "Don't want you to block the toilet."

Draco tried for a smile but it disappeared because George went back to sucking his finger. It was quite painful, and feeling George's tongue moving over the revealed layers of skin was not as comfortable as the feel of his lips on his unharmed skin.

When George pulled back again Draco could see how deep the cut really was. Disgustedly, he grimaced and was glad when George traced his wand over the wound.

"Thanks, Boss." Draco spotted some remaining blood at the corner of George's mouth.

George's bloody lips curled upwards. "You're welcome. Need to take care of my…" His voice lapsed into silence when Draco reached out a hand. "What're you…"

"You have some blood there," Draco said in a whisper, because he was fascinated that George's lips felt even softer when he wiped his fingers over them.

"I didn't try to steal your precious blood."

That comment had Draco retrieving his hand quickly. "Blood is blood…"

"You're not serious about that, eh?"

Draco shrugged. "Blood _is_ just blood. I had quite an intense lesson about that last year." He raised his chin a little. "Well, of course, my blood is still precious because it's _my_ blood. And I am precious."

George was not laughing, but he grinned like he had not grinned at Draco before. "You're so in love with yourself it's no wonder that Vertiy's attempts weren't successful."

"No…" Draco noticed a small chance to make his attempts a bit more obvious. "Verity's attempts were unsuccessful because of the same reasons why the poster's attempts are unsuccessful."

George's grin softened and Draco was utterly glad that it neither disappeared nor turned into a devilish one. "I've thought so."

Draco's heart was pounding harshly against his chest because George did not back away from him. Encouragement bumped through Draco's veins and he was sure that those brown eyes pulled him closer.

"And what do you think about that?"

"I'm not going to throw you out because of it." George stepped away and pointed towards the shelves. "Do me a favour and finish that for me, Malfoy." With that he turned around and walked patiently away, leaving Draco flushed and filled to the brim with confusion.


	7. 7 months to go…

**7 months to go…**

It had taken him months, but Draco finally thought he knew the secret of pygmy puff love-making.

"It's all in the tongue," he told Jordan, who came far too close in his attempt to look into the cage. Draco did not even think about making room for him and so he was forced to inhale his scent, which was not particularly unpleasant, but foreign and just not something Draco thought he could grow accustomed to.

"Ugh, Malfoy!" Jordan elbowed him – roughly. "I don't wanna think about that! Those tongues _touch_ me when I carry them upstairs, okay?"

"I don't want to know where your hands already have been," Draco replied, not even trying to disguise his disgusted expression. That image just resulted in pure, intense aversion.

"Well…" Jordan's incredibly white teeth almost blinded Draco when he grinned at him. "I know for sure where they haven't been yet." And then he winked at Draco. With this strange emphasise on 'yet' Draco could only feel more disgust and wished he were in a position to verbalise that.

So he stuck to an innocent remark. "The shelves on the second floor? Quite a thick layer of dust waiting there for you."

Lee still grinned, not serious about the challenge, but not refusing it either. "Maybe the slave of the store wants to join me –"

"Lee." The harsh voice from behind caused Jordan to turn around since he was not used to George speaking to him like George was his boss. "Break's over. Need you upstairs."

Draco ignored whatever look Jordan flashed him and focused on the pygmy puffs. Two of them still with entwined tongues. A few minutes ago it had looked quite cute but by now Draco thought they only accidentally knotted their tongues together.

When he moved to help them, a hand slammed against his shoulder. Draco fell with his side against the cold stone wall of the cellar.

Reflexively, he whirled around. "What the heck is wrong with –" He bit his tongue as he noticed that he spit his words directly into George's face. Jordan was gone. And Draco found himself hoping for his return.

George scowled at him, his eyes with the same stoniness they had on Draco's first day. His face filled with signs of rage and when his fist punched next to Draco's face against the wall, Draco had a hard time not to show that he was actually afraid.

"You are not allowed to romantically interact with my employees. Understood?"

Raising his chin proudly, Draco said, "Excuse me, Boss, but just because I prefer romantic interaction with men doesn't mean I throw myself at the next best guy."

"Don't talk about my best mate like that," George growled and not only was his anger visible, Draco could also feel the heat because of the almost not existent distance between them.

"Since he's your best mate you should know by now that he's quite flirtatious. He even spoke like that to McGonagall and I'm sure he didn't plan any romantic interaction with her." Draco crossed his arms, hoping this would work as some kind of barrier to keep George at least a few inches away from him.

"Since I know that you're a dirty, little whore I am _allowed_ to worry about a love potion accidentally slipping in my best mate's tea." George said so many hurtful things in that one sentence that Draco did not know how to react at first.

Eventually, when George already seemed to notice what his statement had done, Draco snorted and forced a smirk.

"You should rethink your sources, Weasley."

George's fist hit once more against the wall. "I don't have to rethink, Malfoy. You do what I want you to do or you walk straight to Azkaban. And I don't want to see you flirting with my best mate."

Draco's jaw clenched painfully as he tried not to say something but every time he had to listen to such things it got harder. He balled his hands into fists and unfolded his arms, narrowing his eyes to thin slits as he looked up at George. The words were on his tongue, but the thought of Azkaban sealed his lips.

George growled. "Pathetic, Malfoy. You'd do anything to stay out of Azkaban. I don't even want to know how many times you tried to seduce yourself out of this shit. Too bad you got my brother, eh? No chance there, not even with the prettiest arse in the world."

Draco frowned at this comment, by now able to ignore any attempts to insult him. Was it jealousy that had George's face red like a tomato? That would also explain why his hand was suddenly on Draco's chin, lifting his face and holding him in place.

"I wonder how far you'd go to stay here."

Draco licked his lips, because George continued to lean closer. And did it really matter what he said when he – in the end – only needed an excuse to express his feelings?

"Tell me, Malfoy. How far?" George's lips were hovering barely an inch away from Draco's.

Draco stayed stoically silent. He did not want to lose the last bit of his pride and admit that he would willingly crawl into George's bed even without any threats of Azkaban. It was pathetic enough if he reminded himself that this was still a Weasley. George might be successful and he earned enough money that, with other cases, Draco's parents would consider him worth a try, but he was a Weasley. He had red hair, lots of freckles, and almost as many siblings. Having a crush on him was bad enough; being at his mercy would be worse.

"Answer me," George gritted out between teeth that were almost as tightly clenched as Draco's. His lips still looked temptingly soft… Draco should know that the worst thing he could do would be to give up his resistance in this situation. But all the things George could force Draco to do when he realised how much power he actually had seemed worth a try in Draco's clouded mind.

Draco swallowed hard. "Could you… do that?" he asked. "Are you such a conscienceless man, George?" The use of his first name seemed to finally soften George up a bit, but he stayed close, his breathing erratic and warm against Draco's lips. "Do you hate me so much?"

George looked like he honestly had to think about this, and Draco had been so sure that hate had long passed, but… apparently he had hoped in vain. Hate that had grown over years could not disappear in half a year. Neither could it turn into something more.

Well then, he had obviously never hated George.

Draco wanted to turn his head away when George suddenly moved closer. He pressed his body against Draco's, his hands moving back to the wall, fingers splaying on stone that was not cold enough to decrease the desire burning through Draco's body.

Draco's eyelids grew heavier as he watched George leaning closer. It was laughable how much he wanted to close the distance. There was only one thing he wanted more than kissing George now, or tomorrow, or forever and always…

And before Draco could finish his thoughts it already happened. He was kissing George, and George was kissing back, and he could not say who had started the kiss. Draco started touching, at least with his hands, because George was virtually glued to him, pressing closer and closer, slowly moving up and down, starting the friction that forced Draco to cling to him.

His hands explored the flexing muscles, moving down George's spine and back up to his shoulder blades to scratch over them with his nails. That was the trigger for George's knee to slip between Draco's legs, and it felt so good to get even closer to him that Draco could not help but moan helplessly.

"Please…"

And that one word seemed to be the trigger for George to stop. At first he did not pull away except with his mouth, which already caused enough pain in Draco. His body automatically followed George's when he tried to step backwards. His fingers clutched to George's robe as he hungrily moved to stand on his tiptoes, greedily trying to reach George's lips.

"Please," Draco muttered again. He was starving for affection, something he had never been more aware of in years. That was why it hurt so much to be pushed away again.

There was a disgusted look on George's face as he sized Draco up, a pathetic mess of need leaning against the wall. Draco could understand it; he would have looked at himself in the same way. But it still hurt. And it did not stop hurting.

"I don't want this." George shook his head, tired, exhausted, like he had tried to save a long lasting relationship and finally realised that it was too late.

Panic rose in Draco and he straightened. "Don't," he said hastily when George moved to leave. The way he looked back at Draco was almost hopeful. "Don't throw me out. I won't come out of here again. I won't say anything to anyone… I'll stop thinking about you, but, _please_, don't throw me out. You are everything that stays between me and Azkaban."

Now Draco hoped he looked pathetic. He wanted to make George feel at least pity for him, because the one thing in the world he wanted more than anything else was remaining free of Azkaban.

George snorted and turned around. Not a single word left his unusually red lips and the silence he dragged over the room was only broken when he slammed the door of the cellar shut, leaving Draco with pure fear running cold through his veins.


	8. 6 months to go…

**6 months to go…**

"So, Mr. Malfoy, is there anything else?" Percy Weasley finished his round in the cellar in front of the potion ingredient shelves. He avoided looking at the poster above the pygmy puff cage, but his gaze towards Draco ensured that he thought it belonged to Draco.

"Anything else?" Draco smiled weakly into his cauldron. Rosy potion glittered transparently in the dim light of the cellar. Love potion. Percy had made sure that it was only a light one and nothing with which Draco could cause any damage. Apparently this visit was only to make sure he was as good as locked away here. "No, nothing. You've seen everything I'm allowed to lay hands on."

Percy stopped writing on a parchment roll and looked at Draco over the rims of his glasses. He frowned, but Draco could not say why and continued filling the small bottles. Christmas was here and the love potion was selling well because, naturally, people did not like being alone on Christmas. Percy had probably chosen this day to pay Draco his visit to pick his brothers up. Soon they would head for the Burrow and be happy.

And Draco would suffer. He suffered from the steady fear that George would just stop treating him like air and kick him straight into Azkaban.

"You've changed." Percy's voice pulled Draco back into reality before he could ponder too long about how exactly George was treating him. "I just don't know if it's for the better."

Draco pulled new bottles from one of the many drawers. It had taken him quite some time to get to know all of them; now he could find his way through shelves and drawers blindly. He had grown accustomed to this place… and surprisingly to his position: his position before the kiss. Until then everything had been all right. He might have disgraced himself with staring at George like a lovesick teenager, but since he was only eighteen he was allowed to stare like that. After all… he _was_ lovesick.

"Is that a bad thing?" Draco asked and Percy's frown increased, like he was not able to follow Draco, or maybe just because he could not quite believe what he was saying. "Change, I mean. It's what the Ministry wanted."

This was a statement Percy liked, considering his love for the Ministry – the new one even more than the old. Draco had learned to cope with the new one as well, unlike his father. But he had never cared much about politics and as long as he stayed out of Azkaban everything was okay.

"Of course, it's a positive effect if working here changes you for the better." Percy put his parchment back into his briefcase. "But that wasn't what I meant. You look depressed."

Draco shrugged. "My private life is still mine and none of your business."

"It is, if my brother doesn't treat you properly it –"

"I'm not a bloody animal!" Draco was quite shocked at himself at the sudden freak out. Percy stared blankly at him. Draco lowered his eyes to the cauldron. "I don't want to be talked about like that. The relationship between your brother_s_ and me is on adequate terms considering the situation."

"Of course…" Percy pulled another parchment out of his briefcase. "I need you to sign this after reading it _carefully_. Then please give it to George."

"This whole paper stuff is so annoying," Draco muttered and noticed that this statement was not to Percy's liking. The sullen expression brought a by-now unfamiliar twitch to Draco's mouth. He ripped the parchment out of Percy's hand and smiled sweetly. "Thank you, Mr. Weasley."

"You're welcome, Mr. Malfoy." Percy reached out a hand to shake Draco's. "We meet again when your community service is over."

"Brilliant! And I hope never again afterwards." Draco smirked. "Happy Christmas, Mr. Weasley."

"The same to you," Percy managed to grumble when he turned to leave.

Draco read the parchment and realised that it was pretty much like the one he had already signed, so he put it away and turned back to his work. He did not want to give George any reason to talk to him again. For George, even just risking moving his lips in front of Draco seemed too much. Draco was getting his orders from the Weasel, the one and only staff member not in danger to get filled up with love potion by Draco, apparently.

Draco held up the last bottle and watched the liquid shimmering when he corked it. This disgustingly girlish looking stuff could change everything. One drop and George would talk to him again. The whole bottle and he might kiss him once more.

Draco closed his fingers around the bottle. Why could he not brew a true love potion and force George to return his feelings? Because he did not want to be that desperate.

Half a year to go… that should be manageable. He would try to get over this.

Draco shoved the bottle into the pocket of his robes as a reminder of this promise to himself. Then he grabbed the roll of parchment and turned the lights off with a flick of his wand. The pygmy puffs squeaked their goodbyes and rolled together into the usual huge ball for sleep.

The shop was already dark, which was strange because normally he was shoved out before closing. Percy must have been impatient to leave with his brothers.

Draco decided to leave the parchment on the counter when he suddenly heard noises coming from upstairs. Frowning, he moved to take a look but there was no light.

"Hello?" When no answer came Draco pulled out his wand and cast a _Lumos_, sending it up to the second floor. He followed the magical light up the stairs and thought he noticed a shadow disappearing in the corridor that led to the flat above the shop.

"George?" Draco was unsure if he should risk taking a closer look. But George was with his family. It was Christmas after all, and certainly Percy and the Weasel had made sure to take their brother home.

Draco gulped hard. If this was a burglar he should call the Aurors and not try to handle this on his own. He might get hurt.

The sudden noise of a fist slamming against a wall kept Draco from turning around. And the audible curse ensured him that this was not a burglar.

"George?" Draco cautiously shoved the door open and stepped into the corridor. He had never been here before and did not know how it looked with daylight coming through that small window at the end of the corridor, but compared to the shop it looked rather cheap. The floor was dusty and in the corners of the ceiling spiders had woven complicated webs. Now he knew why the Weasel refrained so often from going upstairs.

At the end of the corridor, stairs led to the third floor. Draco raised his wand to enlighten the perfect darkness that had even swallowed George, almost like Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder.

"I can't see anything. Are you up there, George?" Draco clung tightly to the railing as he walked up the stairs, fearing that he might fall backwards or through the stairs that creaked with every step. "George, if –" Draco stumbled over something, not sure if it was the end of the staircase or something else. He reached for the railings, but could not find them in the darkness.

When he crashed to the ground with full force he realised that it was surely not the stairs that had caused his fall. It was warm and soft and moaned because of Draco's weight.

"Merlin's beard, Malfoy! You're heavy…" George's hand searched for his shoulders but they unsuccessfully patted around in Draco's face. Draco slapped them away.

"Sorry, okay? You could've warned me." Draco moved to sit straight, his hands wandering over George, the floor, and George, the wall, and maybe a bit too often back to George.

"I've dropped a package of Darkness Powder. You should've stayed away, Malfoy."

"I thought it was a burglar!"

"It's none of your business if anyone tries to rob my shop, okay?"

"I'll keep that in mind for the next time, Boss. Would you stop groping now?"

"Said the one with his hand between my legs."

Draco jerked away and crawled backwards until he felt a wall in his back. He wished he could disappear in it.

George chuckled. "That was a joke."

Heat was certainly painting his cheeks red, so Draco was glad George could not see him at the moment. The silence between them was enough evidence for his embarrassment. Draco cleared his throat and tried to search the darkness for a hint where George could be.

"Since when are you in the mood for jokes again?" he asked. He heard George sigh and looked towards that direction.

"I thought that maybe you'd be in need of a joke."

Draco only made a questioning noise.

"Percy told me you're not happy here. That you look depressed. And he said it's my fault, so…"

"You think joking around would immediately change that?" Draco snorted. "Come on, that wasn't new to you anyway."

George wove himself in silence and if he walked away now Draco would probably not notice.

"I can imagine better things than living in fear of Azkaban every day," Draco continued, somehow feeling safer in the all-consuming darkness. It was easier to speak openly when no one could look into his eyes. Maybe George felt something similar.

"Why're you still afraid? I'm not going to throw you out."

"Well…" Draco now wished he could see George's face. "Your reactions towards me are quite ambivalent. You could change your mind anytime, after… since we…"

"Since we kissed?" George could not see Draco's nod, but he was not waiting for an answer anyway. "You've been ignoring me since then."

"What?" Draco shook his head, but George could not see that either. "I don't… I mean… okay, but you are, too! And you're my boss. You said you didn't want it, didn't want _me_. If you don't want me there's no reason for you to keep me here."

"You've signed enough papers to ensure your stay here," George said, his voice so low that it was almost drowned out by the noises he made when he apparently tried to stand up. "And I never said that I didn't want you."

Draco felt the other body coming closer. He reached out in the darkness, aiming for George but grapping into nothingness. Again and again.

"George?"

A hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him to his feet. Draco's words turned into a gasp when George's body pressed him against the wall. Then there were lips on his forehead, his cheek and temple. Draco tilted his head to help George find his lips.

The kiss was like their conversation; protected by the darkness, Draco felt strangely safe to open up completely. The eagerness of George's tongue would not have allowed any resistance, sweeping into Draco's mouth like a hurricane that left his well-sorted emotions in a complete mess.

Draco's hands skittered restlessly between them to open the buttons of George's robe but that was denied. George grabbed his wrists and pulled his lips away from Draco's.

"No," he breathed. "I don't…"

"Don't say you don't want this again," Draco interrupted, his breathing heavy and fast.

"I want this," George replied harshly, sounding like he was frustrated with Draco once again being willing to give him everything he wanted. "I just don't want it like this."

"I'd like to see you, too, but –"

"Stupid, no."

Draco was confused. "You don't want to see me?"

George laughed, but his words held no amusement. "I can't read you, Malfoy. You're acting so strange ever since you began working here. You may only doing this because you're afraid I'll send you to Azkaban otherwise."

Draco started to understand. His hands tightened their grip and pulled George back against him.

"It's Christmas," he said against George's slightly parted lips. "Even I am not working for you on Christmas."

He turned George around, still standing chest-to-chest to him but pressing his boss against the wall, and it felt deliciously good to finally have control over something again. This time Draco opened the buttons of his robe, because there he certainly found no resistance. George could not see it, but he had to feel the movements, chest rising and falling quickly with his erratic breathing.

"Draco…" George pursed his lips, but instead of kissing him, Draco grabbed George's shoulders.

"On your knees," he ordered and shoved George down, and once again Draco was glad not to be able to look George in the eyes. It took him another rough push to get George to obey, but apparently George only needed a moment to accept the shift of authority and another one to take it back from Draco.

"How long have you been thinking about this?" George asked in a low and slightly mocking voice.

Draco shrugged off his robe fully while George's hand moved torturously slow over his legs, to the insides of his thighs and completely ignored his groin when they reached to unbuckle Draco's belt.

"The sight of me on my knees?"

Draco pressed his hand against the wall and looked down into complete blackness. "Sight? What sight?"

George laughed, but Draco almost did not hear it because he moaned. Moaned just because of George's fingers sliding beneath the stiff fabric of his trousers, winding round his cock and stroking slowly. That would justify another laugh, which never seemed to come from George anymore. That was the reason that caused Draco to flush even darker.

He reached down to shed his trousers, not ashamed that they slipped past bony hips and thin legs, because George could not see. He could feel, though, and he seemed to be fond of touching every part of revealed skin. His hot breath was skating over Draco's usually cold skin and not only caused goosebumps but left Draco trembling. It had been so long since anyone touched him – wanted him. He was desperate for more.

Draco moved his hand to George's hair and grabbed it in tufts as he dragged George forward.

The feeling of George's mouth was better than Draco imagined: warm, wet and so powerful that it made him dizzy. He moaned so uncontrolled that the sound echoed from the walls hiding in the darkness. He did not care what noises escaped him now, because George seemed to be encouraged by them, grabbing Draco's hips and urging him to move.

Draco let George control the rhythm at first, too lost in his own pleasure to care for anything else, but tongue and mouth moved teasingly slow, too slow to make up for how long Draco waited for this. He hissed and his nails dug into George's scalp, scraping down to the back of his skull, and when George ignored this silent plead, Draco drove his hips forward in punishment.

George gagged. But instead of pulling away he showed Draco that he had the power to take revenge. With his teeth. Draco winced and almost backed away, but George tightened his grip on Draco's hips, one hand reaching behind Draco.

Draco's fingers tightened mercilessly in George's hair, but he did not care about causing pain as long as George was doing the same. And it hurt to have just one finger pressing inside him. Draco's fear of how much pain something bigger would cause increased with every steady thrust, and it decreased again with George's mouth still moving. His teeth scraped over sensitive skin in an almost accidental way that had Draco wondering how often George had done this before. But he was not the one who should complain about a lack of experience.

And he hoped that George would not complain about it, when Draco came at the first light brush of fingertips against his prostate. The darkness around him seemed to suddenly explode with light and Draco realised just a second later that he had closed his eyes. Since it was not making much of a difference he kept them closed, trying to enjoy every slowly dying spark of pleasure that had shortly before burned his insides.

His legs were weak and when George released him Draco slumped to the floor, sucking in great lungfuls of air. The sounds of George undressing crawled into his dizzy mind.

"Come here," George said. Hands searched for his shoulders or arms or just his body, but Draco did not care and impatiently moved forwards, feeling the skin of heated thighs burning between his legs when he straddled George's lap.

When one arm came around Draco's waist, he leaned forward against George's chest. He felt safe, protected, and like the worst evil in the world could walk in now and hiss its killing curse in vain at him. He knew it was stupid to feel like this but it felt too good to even try suppressing such emotions.

"George…" The name was another plea for the kiss George immediately offered him – once again hitting Draco's cheek. Their lips met after Draco framed George's face, tongues sliding together sensuously in a tangle, and when George pulled away to concentrate on not causing too much pain while pushing in, Draco continued to lap greedily at George's mouth.

It hurt. And it did not. At least it was not comparable to all the pain Draco had suffered for his failure. This ached and throbbed, felt more full and warm, and when George shoved against him with a little more force Draco moaned once more in pleasure.

"It's okay," George said breathlessly, probably mistaking pleasure for pain, or just expecting Draco to feel pain, but how could that possibly be a hindrance when it was experienced with George? "Take your time. Move whenever you're ready."

Draco sighed. "Is that an order?"

George panted more than he laughed. "Not now, Draco." And to make sure Draco would shut up George kissed him again.

Draco could have stayed like this forever, but he felt George impatiently twitching underneath him. He found himself smirking at obviously holding all the power now. Slowly, he pushed himself up and down, until sweet whimpering noises left George's mouth, promptly swallowed by Draco's hungry kiss.

The climax that creeped up on George was a surprise for Draco. It seemed to happen so fast, without him being able to enjoy pleasuring George thoroughly. He wondered how long George had been waiting for this.

When Draco opened his eyes it was still dark around them, so he allowed himself to lean forward and nestle his temple against George's shoulder. They were both still wearing their shirts, but their robes and trousers had been forgotten somewhere on the floor, and Draco wished they had added the rest of their clothing to them. His fingers scooted under George's shirt, finding an undershirt there that was sweaty and glued to George's skin.

He was too exhausted to free George from all these clothes now and instead stilled. George kissed his jaw and throat, and Draco was sure he would find his lips when he really wanted to. This was very nice, so Draco stayed even longer in this position – wrapped up in George's protective arms.

Eventually, George cleared his throat. "I need to… uhm…"

"Hmm?" Draco pulled back and opened his eyes. The shock was huge when he realised that the darkness had slowly started to disappear. Through a small window next to the door that apparently led to George's flat, the light of freshly fallen snow cut heavy slices through the darkness and slowly enlightened George's strangely pale face.

It was like the light not only destroyed the darkness but any feeling of safety. Draco felt vulnerable and quickly reached for his clothes, trying to cover every red spot that gave away his attachment and shame. George looked stunned because Draco slipped away from him so easily, but he did not try to hold Draco back.

"You need to go and have a happy Christmas with your family, I get that." Draco pulled his trousers up and threw his robes over his shoulders when he was on the stairs. He stopped and slowly turned his head.

George looked away. "Yeah…" He reached for his clothes, trying to cover his bare legs. "Happy Christmas," he said, and Draco wanted to reply with his mouth already turning upwards when the next word killed any hint of a smile. "Malfoy."

Draco snorted and turned to leave. "Thanks, Boss."


	9. 5 months to go…

**5 months to go…**

With a sigh Draco stared at the bottle of love potion he had been carrying around for a month now. Every time he was close to returning to his lovesick-teenager-stares he pulled it out and remembered the promise he had broken right after making it. It helped him to avoid George. And thankfully something kept George from approaching him as well.

Until now…

"Do you plan to give that love potion to the pygmy puffs?"

Draco would have turned around but the breathing on his neck stopped him. He looked down into the cage and uncorked the bottle.

"I've come to the conclusion that it's quite nasty to let them screw around without love," Draco said dryly. He moved to let some of the love potion drip on the expectant, outstretched tongue of a pygmy puff, but George grabbed his wrist to stop him.

"And forcing them to love each other is better?" He tugged on Draco's arm, urging him to turn around. When Draco did he was forced look in surprisingly warm brown eyes – and that scared him more than the familiar hardness. "I think they're intelligent enough to pick a pygmy puff they like for this."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "I doubt that there is more in their heads than cuddling."

George laughed, rather hoarsely, but since it was already a rarity to see him laugh Draco did not care. It was a pity that the unflattering seriousness eventually returned to George's face.

"Why are you down here?" Draco finally managed, coming closer to the question that had lain so heavy on his shoulders since George had started to avoid him. Why he could not have simply asked why George had not come down sooner, he did not know…

"I…" George let go of Draco's hand to cover his mouth while clearing his throat. "I wanted to ask you why you… why… why are you avoiding me?"

"I'm not avoiding you. I'm working down here. You know where to find me." Draco closed the bottle of love potion, at first focusing on it, then on the pygmy puff cage. "If you had anything to tell me you could –" A kiss kept Draco from finishing his sentence. George pulled away when Draco was still fighting with his surprise.

"You… uhm…" George pointed at his lips. "It looks just irresistible when you purse your lips when you try hard to focus on something."

Draco took a step backwards and wiped his hand over his mouth. "That's sexual harassment, Boss. I think somewhere in those papers there was something about you not being allowed to force me into any sexual activity."

George nodded. "So, you think I took advantage of my position to –"

"No, that's what _you_ think," Draco burst in. "You think I only did it to ensure my stay here. But guess what? I just liked getting laid. Not many thoughts behind it…"

Strangely enough, George was smiling. "I like that," he said, causing Draco to frown, "That you finally dared to speak like that to me again. It only needed some sex to achieve it."

Draco opened his mouth, but instead of responding he only exhaled. With a smirk he turned back to the cage. He frowned as he noticed the strange bulge on one pygmy puff.

George had apparently followed his gaze. "What's wrong?"

"I think it worked," Draco said and pulled the pygmy puff out of the cage. It lay still on his palm when he presented it to George. "A pregnant pygmy puff."

George grinned. "Took you long enough," he said, examining the pygmy puff closely.

"Because all those bloody things you gave me to experiment with were _male_. It took me weeks to figure out that I turned a dozen pygmy puffs gay."

Again, George laughed and this time it was not hoarse. He laughed whole heartily and even held his stomach. Draco huffed pointedly at this. George tried to calm down. He straightened and stroked the purple fur of the pygmy puff in Draco's hand.

"You know…" George's fingers started moving over Draco's hand instead of the pygmy puff. "Valentine's Day is approaching…"

"Do you need more love potion?"

"Only if I need a bottle to make you go out with me."

Draco's eyes widened at George's request and he turned away before he could blush too much. Clearing his throat, he walked to the table and put the pygmy puff down to give it some extra attention.

"I…" Draco looked back at George. "It might be possible that I can forget about you being my boss, then… but only if you can do the same."

George shrugged. "I think I can manage that."


	10. 4 months to go…

**4 months to go…**

Draco had never been this nervous before a date. He did not know George that well and was unsure what they would do on Valentine's Day. His usual black robes would hopefully be all right, but since George was still a Weasley, Draco doubted they would do anything highly culturally valuable.

Maybe he was overdressed…

Draco hated being so nervous – he was unable to sit down and wait for George to pick him up from all the nervousness. Instead he walked back and forth in the cellar, throwing glances up the stairs every few second.

The squeaks of the pygmy puffs had increased and, slowly but surely, annoyed Draco. He had separated the growing number of pregnant ones from the ones fooling around and the ones that remained in the cellar until someone bought them, but it had not helped to decrease the noise.

When Draco decided to check on things before departing, he noticed smaller balls of fur rolling around in the cage. Draco quickly walked over to the cage and bent over it. His eyes instantly grew to the size of Bludgers.

The small balls were rolling out of a large pygmy puff, one after another, and there seemed to be no end. The other pygmy puffs cleaned the slightly sticky fur of the smaller balls with their large tongues, pulling them out of the way so that new ones could fill the cage.

Draco could not look away. It was like a horrible accident… did he just call the miracle of birth an accident? Draco shook his head and decided to help the pygmy puff. But when his hand reached into the cage the pygmy puff started squeaking in such a high tone that Draco's ears started ringing.

It would have been all right for him to just step back and watch the pygmy puffs instinctively taking care of each other, but suddenly another pygmy puff started squeaking in that high-pitched tone.

Draco watched wide-eyed when more small balls came out of another pygmy puff. The cage was slowly filling with furry balls in all colours. Draco had to do something.

He Summoned a box, and after hexing a comfortable floor, he hovered the baby pygmy puffs out of the cage and into the box.

"Draco? Are you still down there?" George's voice called for him from the stairs. Then there were footsteps coming closer. "What the fuck are those?"

"Baby pygmy puffs," Draco was unable to say more. Helplessly, he pointed at the countless fur balls.

"Oh, no…" George also sounded like the miracle of birth seemed more like an accident. "And I already sent the others home. Give me a box. We need to separate them."

Draco did as he was told, but he could not hide his disappointment. "And our date?"

George was too busy with the pygmy puffs to throw Draco a simple look. "You're not running away. Those, on the other hand, could roll away." He laughed while pulling a handful of baby pygmy puffs out of the cage. "Look at them! Aren't they cute? Maybe we should sell them right away? What do you think?" He beamed at Draco, as though it did not matter to him at all how nervous Draco had been, how much time he had spent thinking about this day…

"Why do you care about my opinion? I'm just the potions slave." Draco scowled forcefully at George, hoping that like this the realisation would settle that something had gone wrong. "I'm not even running away."

George moved back to his task of separating the babies from the grown-up pygmy puffs. Draco waited in vain for an answer.

"You do know that I have a life outside this cellar?" Draco was not interested in letting George get away with this. "I could've spent Valentine's Day with someone else."

George chuckled.

"There _could_ be someone else." Draco flushed from the amused glance George flashed to him over his shoulder.

"Help me, Draco. We need more boxes."

Draco flicked his wand, watching a box magically folding in the air. "You don't take this serious."

"Hello? Millions of baby pygmy puffs?" George waited a moment for Draco to return his smile, then went back to the pygmy puffs.

Now Draco waited more than just a moment for George to say more, but nothing came, and he started wondering if he should just leave. Was George honestly expecting that Draco would stay here in the dark cellar instead of enjoying the great weather, just because he was busy with a pygmy puff nursery? Draco had regular work schedules. George could not suddenly change those. Not just because he believed Draco was in love with him.

Draco was determined and ready to leave when George turned around. The baby pygmy puffs had wrapped their already quite long tongues around his face and George struggled to free himself. Draco smiled. He rolled his eyes and sat down to help George. Removing tongue after tongue revealed the grin on George's face, and after Draco had thrown the last pygmy puff into the box, he returned the grin.

"Cute, aren't they?" George pulled a box full of furry balls into his lap and looked lovingly into it. "They'll make me rich."

Draco laughed and forgot everything about leaving. He moved closer to George and leant against his shoulder while watching the cuddling pygmy puffs. George seemed to misunderstand this as a desire to cuddle; he swung his arm around Draco and pulled him closer, so that Draco could only rest his head on George's shoulder.

"What'll we do with them?" Draco stroked the purple and pink balls, distracting himself from the comfortable sensation he began to notice. He was sitting on the cold floor in the cellar – he should not feel comfortable.

"I'm not quite sure. We need to find a place for them," George said and covered Draco's hand with his. Underneath their fingers the pygmy puffs purred as though they were still being stroked. "Any ideas?"

"You seriously care about my opinion?" Draco understood now how the pygmy puffs immediately started purring when their fur was stroked, because George's fingers generated a pleasant tickling on the back of Draco's hand. "Since when?"

"Since you gifted me these babies. We're a little family now."

Draco elbowed George and looked away to hide his smile, but he could not escape George's tight embrace. Not that he wanted to. George was in a good mood. It was a rarity to see him laugh and make jokes, and that Draco had triggered this in him felt brilliant.

"A huge family, actually. Typical Weasley, too many children to take care of," Draco said, and in the middle of the sentence his voice started shaking. Such comments about George's family had mostly led to George punching Draco and right now his hand on Draco's shoulder tightened its grip. The ice they walked on was apparently thinner than Draco had thought.

George put the box with pygmy puffs on the ground. "Please, don't… don't talk about my family. Not like that."

"It wasn't… I was just joking," Draco admitted and strangely enough he was telling the truth. Insulting George gave him absolutely no pleasure anymore.

"I know!" George crawled to the pygmy puff cage, grabbing the exhausted new mother. He examined it for any traces of trauma. "I know, but this is already very hard for me. You're Draco Malfoy after all. I hate Draco Malfoy."

"Do you ask everyone you hate out on a date?" Draco could not keep this remark to himself. He was hurt by George's words.

"You're not… you're different. I don't know!" George used his wand to clean the pygmy puff carefully and he seemed glad that he could focus on something other than Draco. "I don't even know if you're always like this. Can't you understand that I'm confused? And I'm scared that evil little git in you comes back and this is all a charade." He sat the pygmy puff back in the cage and turned to Draco, looking like he expected a similar speech. "Don't you have anything to say?"

Draco lowered his eyes, the echo of 'I hate Draco Malfoy' still filling his head. "Can I go home now?"

George scooted closer, shoving boxes full of pygmy puffs out of his way. "No," he said and pulled Draco into his arms. "You promised to spend Valentine's Day with me. Let's take care of the babies and then get out of here, yeah?"

Draco raised his hands and hesitantly returned the hug. "Yeah… okay." He did not want to break the embrace and was glad that George rubbed his back comfortingly. It was nice to be enveloped by this warm feeling that he might be something more to George. But that one sentence generated more painful emotions the longer Draco thought about it.

"Hey…" George's hand stopped near Draco's pocket. "What's this?" Amusement glittered in George's eyes as he pulled a small bottle out of Draco's pocket. But when he realised what the liquid inside was, the warmth in his brown eyes cooled down. "Love potion?"

Draco's embarrassment prickled hot in his cheeks. "Yeah…" He smiled and reached for the bottle. "Give it back."

"So you can let it slip over my tea cup?" George shoved Draco away and got to his feet. He held the bottle against the source of light in the cellar. Draco was too surprised to answer immediately. "I should've known right away… that feeling of obsession, the huge attraction all of a sudden, it's another safety precaution of yours!" George whirled around and Draco finally found his voice again, but he did not dare use it when George threw the bottle on the ground. It broke into small pieces, the shiny liquid splashing over the floor. "You thought making me fall for you would be the easiest way to get through your community service!"

Draco shook his head as if he were in slow motion, but George did not care to wait for an explanation. He pointed at the stairs.

"Get out of here. Now!"

Draco stumbled to his feet. "You are completely over–"

"Piss off, Malfoy!" George almost stepped into a box of squeaking pygmy puffs and Draco was sure that, without the boxes, George's fist would have thrown him back to the ground. "Be glad that I can't fire you, because now I definitely would."

Despite those words Draco had to scrape all of his courage together to call George a "Bastard" before hurrying away.


	11. 3 months to go…

**3 months to go…**

Percy Weasley's new office appeared to be bigger and Draco hoped that this was a sign that his influence had increased as well.

"I only have three months to go, there must be another option." Draco stood in front of Percy's desk, hands splayed on the files that were spread on the expensive wood. "Don't force me to beg, Weasley."

Percy's expression had already changed from amused to disbelieving, but finally he appeared to take Draco seriously. "Exactly, Mr. Malfoy. You have only three months of community service left. Stay at George's. He was very content with you. Do you want to risk losing an acceptable working atmosphere by changing your place of work?"

"I've _tried_," Draco reassured. "But it's not acceptable anymore. I know that it's my own responsibility to deal with these huge antipathies, but I, too, am only human. I can't take it anymore. Your brother's humiliating me all the time. He's sneaking into my cellar to… to… it's not fair!" Draco slumped exhaustedly into a chair, flicking his dishevelled hair back behind his ear.

Percy's eyes wandered searchingly over Draco. "It can't be that bad."

Draco placed a hand over his eyes to shield himself from Percy's gaze.

"George has changed. He isn't humiliating you just for the fun of it. Something must've happened." Percy cleared his throat. "I mean, you seemed to be on good terms."

Draco wondered what George had told his family if Percy believed this. "I used to believe that too, but your brother is… emotionally unstable to an amount I can't even put into words."

"He lost his twin," Percy said, not without choking on the last word. "Please keep that in mind. And also remember that George… he needs your help. It's difficult to find someone with a hand for potions and he says that you're doing a great job. You're fast, reliable, and inventive. Don't tell me helping someone you harmed doesn't feel redeeming."

The truth was that Draco felt nothing more than pain as soon as he entered Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. George's looks were no longer like a prickling heat crawling through his body, but like knives ripping his chest open and boring into his heart.

"Your brother…" Draco inhaled deeply. "He doesn't _want_ to like me. He searches for excuses when he feels the slightest spark of affection. Do you know how that feels? If someone is disgusted by liking you? I think I rather go to Azkaban than try to bear that."

Percy blinked at him, took off his glasses and massaged his eyes. "I can't believe what you're saying…"

Draco could not either, but he also could not believe that anything was more torturous than George's repellent behaviour. It had already brought tears to his eyes, especially when he thought about everything they had shared.

"Is… is Azkaban a possibility?"

* * *

><p>"Percy told me about your stupid plan." George entered the cellar and joined Draco at the large table. "Are you completely mental?"<p>

Draco threw the finely chopped ginger root in the cauldron. "Is that a rhetoric question?"

"I'm serious," George said, taking hold of Draco's hand to keep him away from the ingredients and probably also the silver knife. "You're considering spending two and a half months in Azkaban? You can't do this!"

"You'll manage the few potions alone, Boss. I'm sure," Draco said. A warm sensation trickled from his wrist to his forearm from George's touch. Draco tried to jerk his wrist free, but the strong fingers easily held him.

"Why?" George pulled Draco against him. "_Why_?"

Draco steadied himself by pressing a hand on George's chest. "What do you think?" He scowled angrily, but George did not move a single inch away. He stayed unnecessarily close and lifted his other hand to Draco's cheek.

George's eyes flickered to Draco's mouth and the way he leant over was unmistakable. "Don't," George said, the word not more than a tickling breath out of his lips.

Draco turned his head to the side. The kiss landed on his cheek.

"I don't see much of a difference between this dark cellar where you try to drive me insane and a dark cell where only the screams of my former Death Eater colleagues try the same." Draco was relieved that those words were sufficient enough to make George step away. "It's ten weeks. I won't die… and you get rid of me."

George grimaced like he was in pain. "Am I so horrible?"

"Is _that_ a rhetoric question?" Draco's voice cracked. "You accused me of slipping you love potion. I've never… never…" He closed his eyes because tears suddenly welled up, burning like fire in his eyes. "I've made mistakes. I've ruined my life. But I don't deserve so much hate." He hated himself for the small teardrop escaping his eye when he looked at George again. "I didn't kill your brother."

George was remarkably pale, freckles standing out prominently. He opened his mouth, and like a fish out of water, he closed it soundlessly.

Draco wiped the tear away, loathing himself for losing his last remaining bit of pride. "Leave me alone," he demanded. George did not obey. "_Please_…" And George finally moved, but instead of leaving he grabbed Draco and crushed their lips together.

Draco whimpered, trying to turn away from George's mouth, but it seemed to be everywhere. His cheeks, jaw and throat were an equally good selection for George and the needy kisses gradually softened Draco up.

George reached Draco's ear. "Stay with me," he whispered and closed his arms breathtakingly tight around Draco. "I need you. I just need time… a wee bit more time…"

Draco was caged between the table and George, the strong arms crushing him. "N-No, I don't… I can't."

Distraught, George released Draco, but he pressed his lips once more against Draco's ear. "Please, stay here. Azkaban is no solution. And it would… I'd feel guilty. I'd be bloody afraid that something would happen to you there. Don't do this to me, Draco."

"You're such a selfish bastard," Draco muttered but nodded. "Okay, I stay. Now, if you excuse me, I've got work to do."


	12. 2 months to go…

**2 months to go…**

Tired and exhausted, Draco closed the door of the cellar behind him. The shop was filled with thick shadows and Draco's eyes needed a moment to grow accustomed to the darkness. He pulled out his wand before the contours of shelves became visible, casting a quick _Lumos_ and heading for the door.

With a _cling_ the tip of his foot hit something. Draco frowned and illuminated a bottle rolling over the floor. Swinging his wand to the right he followed a trace of bottles to the stairs and found George sitting on the bottom step.

"Boss?" Draco poked George with his wand but the shock of red hair only rolled from one shoulder to the other. "Did you drink all of these? George?" He used his wand to lift George's chin and gazed into bloodshot eyes.

"No, it's my birthday. We chelebrated," George slurred. "We chelebrated without my brother. I'ma never do that again… It's no fun."

Draco ignored George's on-going speech and looked around. Had the others left without making sure that George found his bed? Or had George crawled out of his bed again?

"My Draco Darling wasn't there either," George mumbled and stuck out his hands to Draco. "I miss my Draco Darling."

"Oh, Salazar…" Draco ran a hand through his hair while George motioned with waggling fingers for him to sit onto his lap. "I'll take you upstairs. Come…" Draco swung his arm under George's and grabbed a handful of robes to yank him to his feet.

George staggered dangerously and swung his arm around Draco's shoulder for support. Then he apparently gave up the idea of moving and let himself sag. Draco groaned under the weight but tried his best to drag George up the stairs.

Spending ten months in a cellar brewing potions was not the best preparation to carry another man to the third floor. George lay painfully heavy on Draco's shoulder, and almost dropped to the floor as Draco could only steady him with one hand when he used the other to open the door to George's flat.

"Oh, Draco…" George grinned into the light of Draco's wand. "Care to join me on the floor?"

"Rather not," Draco said and pulled George into the flat. He had never been here and the light was not bright enough to show him any details. He looked for the bedroom door and was quite sure that he had found the right one when George started giggling like a little school-girl.

"You prefer the bed, eh?" George freed himself from Draco's grip and stumbled forward. A loud bang later and he was spread out on the floor, having missed the bed by a few inches. Moaning, George rolled onto his back, all fours stretched out. "The floor, again! I don't fucking care!" His loud voice woke what Draco immediately recognised as the squeaks of pygmy puffs. Now he knew where those had gone. It had to be horrible to sleep next to them.

"Well, then…" Draco watched with raised eyebrows as George wriggled out of his robes. "Sleep on the floor if you must. Good night." He wanted to leave – really wanted to go home and live his boring life – but George began muttering.

"Don't… please, don't go…" He got caught in his robes when he tried to stand up, dangerously swaying. Draco dived over to support him, just at the right moment to catch George. "Don't leave me alone, Draco. Please, I don't want to be alone today…"

Draco closed his eyes for a moment, but as George tried to hug him, he pushed him away. This time, George ended up lying on the bed. Draco helped him out of his trousers, simultaneously trying to ignore George's lascivious comments.

"Stay _down_," Draco demanded when George tried again to sit up. He pulled the blanket over George's body and pressed him into the mattress by his shoulders. "Fuck, George. You're more annoying than a bloody baby."

"Shorry…" George's arms were finally trapped under the blanket. He stayed still, but his huge, tear-filled eyes were trained on Draco, eerily resembling to a puppy. Draco smiled. He sat on the edge of the bed and started stroking George's hair.

"You should sleep," he suggested, wiping thick drops of sweat from George's forehead.

George's eyes flickered to the clock on the bedside table. He shook his head vigorously and his hand twitched, but stayed under the blanket. Draco reached under the fabric to entwine their fingers.

"Why not?" Draco could not believe what he was doing. George had treated him like dirt and now he was sitting at his side, holding his hand. Draco had never felt more pathetic.

George's lips were quaking and he seemed to have trouble opening his mouth. "Fred…" His voice was barely more than a shaky breath.

"Your first birthday without him, I understand."

A tear escaped George's eyes. He shut them tightly while Draco wiped the drop away.

"I mish him so much," George muttered.

Draco wished he knew what to say, but he was a horrible consoler. "I'm sure he misses you, too."

George made a noise that sounded extremely similar to a laugh, but also shared a few similarities to crying. He rolled over and buried his face in Draco's lap. Unsure where to put his hands, Draco watched George shedding bitter tears into his lap. It hurt to see him like this. Draco had not known that George was still fighting the grief he felt because of his brother's death and that he had been suffering so heavily.

"It's okay, George. I'm here," Draco said, gently stroking George's neck. He moved his hands down to Geroge's tensed shoulders and massaged them carefully. George was still wearing a thin shirt and Draco was relieved that he did not have to resist a bare torso. With George's warm face so close to his groin, Draco's determination to continue hating George melted into a puddle of longing.

George's breathing slowed down and when Draco turned him over onto his back, George had fallen asleep. Draco made sure that George was fully covered with the blanket before he prepared to leave.

But George moaned, his face grimacing in his sleep, despair and loneliness marring his face. Lonely, yes. The soft squeaks of the drowsy pygmy puffs probably gave George a feeling of not being alone in this flat. Draco could not imagine how hard the loss of a twin had to be. George had never been alone before and suddenly… Draco could not leave now. Especially when George moaned _his_ name.

Draco sighed, cursing himself for walking back to the bed. He sat back down at George's side and took his hand. The touch seemed to help George calm down, and after Draco brushed a quick kiss on his knuckles, George's expression became more peaceful than Draco had seen over the past months.

He wished he could always make George feel this way. But despite the fact that he did not want to hurt George, his name and fate took care of that. Draco could not change what he had done, and when George would be unable to forgive him, then this would never work…

Still, Draco gave into the desire to lie down next to George. Primarily, he had tried to pull George into his arms, but ended up lying beside him. He watched George, held his hand and scooted closer. With his temple nestled on George's shoulder, Draco fell asleep.

When he opened his eyes again he found himself being watched by George. Sunlight flooded the room and everything seemed not only brighter but better. For one wonderful moment Draco could only smile with bliss.

George brushed his knuckles over Draco's cheek. "Morning," he rasped and then kissed Draco's forehead as though it was the most normal thing to do.

Draco stared at him, too sleepy to cover his uncertainty, and when George smiled back at him – also too sleepy to cover the affection in his eyes – Draco snuggled closer to him.

"Good morning," he said and for the first time in months the words did not taste like a lie on his tongue. "Did you sleep well?"

George kissed him again. "Yes." And again. "With you by my side." He grabbed Draco's chin and lifted it up. "Thank you for staying," he said before kissing Draco tenderly on the mouth. Draco returned the kiss, his hand slipping into George's messy red hair and pulling the thick, soft strands in tufts when, without warning, George rolled him over.

The blanket magnified the quickly building heat between them. Draco had to pull away from George's lips, before he lost himself in the pleasant warmth.

"That doesn't mean…" George's finger closed his lips.

"I'm sorry." George traced his finger over the contours of Draco's mouth. "So, so sorry. I was an idiot."

Draco nodded, but guessed by George's expectant stare it was his turn to say something. He shrugged. "I won't say that I was an idiot, too. I wasn't."

"Not much," George corrected. He caught Draco's snort in his palm, covering his mouth completely while looking intensely into Draco's eyes. "Let's try it again, Draco. Come on…"

Draco pulled George's hand from his mouth. "You're still my boss."

"Would you hate two months full of special advantages?" George jokingly waggled his eyebrows, but Draco was definitely not in the mood for jokes.

"Do you honestly think you'd be ready for this?"

George's features returned to an unflattering seriousness. But his words made up for it. "Yeah… yes, I do. I care about you, Draco. Too much to let you go again. And time's running out…"

"I'm sure you'd get over it," Draco replied and tried to get up before George could notice that he was blushing.

George's hand landed on his shoulder and pressed him back onto the mattress. Draco was unable to move, trapped between George's arms and buried underneath his heavy body. The redness crawling over his face was certainly visible by now.

"You've ruined my declaration," George said, adding confusion to Draco's embarrassment.

"Declaration?" Draco asked. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You'll never know now…" George let his gaze travel over Draco's body and back up to his face. A malicious smile crept onto his face. "Except you stay. For more than two months…"

"I think…" Draco drew in a sharp breath. George could not wait for him to finish his answer, hands running all over Draco's body to undress him. Draco arched into George's mouth that was hovering only inches above him. "We could at least try."

George grinned widely. "Brilliant." He greedily took Draco's mouth, still smiling, and ripped his shirt open. Buttons flew across the room and fell soundly to the floor, but received not the slightest bit of attention…


	13. 1 month to go…

**1 month to go…**

Draco moaned.

His fingers dug into the twisted sheets and he buried his face in George's neck, clinging with one arm and both legs to him. Warm breath skated over Draco's neck and dried the wet film George's tongue had left there shortly before. Now George's teeth bit into his shoulder and forced Draco to throw his head back – panting, moaning, whimpering.

Draco pushed back against the hips that slammed forcefully against him. The first thrust still throbbed through Draco's body, but the steadily increasing pressure and pleasure caused by George's frantic movements made up for any previous rough treatment. It felt good, incredibly good, and it was definitely not allowed to feel even better.

George seemed to be close, his thrusts becoming more erratic and his speed quickening. It was already too much for Draco's body, and just the slight brush of George's hand was enough to shove him over the edge. He would have felt pathetic if his mind had not been busy with the overwhelming feeling that seemed to soar through his entire body.

George's teeth finally released Draco's shoulder and his mouth found Draco's, which waited impatiently and for what felt like an eternity for the kiss. Violently thrusting his tongue forward, George tried to devour Draco's mouth, but he met equivalent resistance. Draco rocked harder against George, clenching his muscles just when George was close to take control over their kiss. George moaned and shoved hard against Draco, finding his release and cursing into Draco's mouth.

Panting, he collapsed onto Draco, who generously wrapped his arms around George. Draco kissed George's shoulder and traced his fingers over George's sweaty back. Once, while they had lain like this together, he had tried to count all of the freckles covering George's body, but his impatient boss had rushed to work before he was finished. Draco decided that it was time for another try…

"Oh, crap…" George had looked at the clock on the bedside table.

"I wouldn't say it was that bad…" Draco turned George's face back to him, pursing his lips in anticipation. George chuckled against Draco's mouth and kissed him sensuously. Draco wrapped his legs back around George's waist, forcing him closer.

"I…" George groaned at the contact of their hips. "The shop, Draco," was all he managed to say between their heated kisses.

Draco shook his head, but George still tried to get up. Determined, Draco shoved George away and onto his back, rolling onto his comfortable body as fast as possible. He splayed his hands on George's chest.

"You are the boss, George," Draco said with a smirk. "Let your employees take care of the shop."

"You are aware of the fact that I'm also _your_ boss, aren't you? Because you spend way too much time distracting me instead of being in your cellar."

"I still finish my potions," Draco said. "And distracting you is very good for the atmosphere at work."

"Oh, what am I going to do when you're gone?" George's amusement disappeared. "Draco?"

"Yes?"

George seemed to have trouble with the question. He had tried to ask it for weeks now and always turned into a coward shortly before asking. Draco would say yes, but that did not mean he wanted to make this easy for George. It was too amusing to watch him struggling from of a simple question.

"Would you… I wanted to ask if maybe you wanted to…" George had to clear his throat to manage the last words. "…keep working here after your community service is over?"

Draco faked a surprised expression, then let uncertainty worry George, and at last smiled. "Sure."

George beamed happily, shot up into an upright position and grabbed Draco's hips. They kissed, arms wrapped around each other. Draco rutted teasingly against George and took advantage of the rebuilding desire between them to keep George in bed a few more minutes.

George could not resist any longer and threw Draco back onto the mattress, moving to within only an inch from Draco's mouth when someone knocked against the door.

"George? Are you still in there?" The Weasel. The bloody annoying Weasel. Draco rolled his eyes when George immediately pulled away and did not seem to care about Draco's tightening grip around his shoulders.

"Don't you dare come in, Ron," he yelled to the door.

Draco smirked. George looked at him and he knew exactly what Draco was up to, but did not stop him.

"Oh, George…" Draco said in a quiet and soft voice, adding his most delicious moan, and from the way George bit his lips he could guess that Ron could wait there forever. That stupid Weasel could just not stop knocking. Draco threw his head back into the pillows and shouted, "Oh fuck, oh Merlin, _yes_! George!"

The knocking stopped promptly. Silence followed in which George had trouble in preventing himself from laughing and Draco gave a loud moan from time to time.

"I come back later," the Weasel finally called, the noises of quick footsteps walking away following.

Draco burst into laughter when George looked at him, clearly trying hard for a serious face.

"Hey…" George flicked his fingers against Draco's forehead. "That's not funny. Why don't you moan like that in bed with me?"

"Well, make me," Draco demanded and spread his legs invitingly.

George growled like a hungry animal and his eyes darkened with desire the closer he leant towards Draco. "I'm so bloody glad we moved the pygmy puffs back to the cellar. They'd be traumatised forever if they had to watch this."

Draco wanted to laugh, but George kissed him before a single noise could escape him.


	14. The end…

**The end…**

"Congratulations, Mr. Malfoy. You are officially a free man now," Percy Weasley said after checking the papers Draco had just signed. They smiled at each other; Draco could not stop smiling today and most people seemed unable to not return the gesture. "May I ask what you plan for your future? If you still have trouble finding an occupation I might be able to arrange something at the Ministry." Quite obviously he adjusted the badge on his chest and Draco had to suppress a chuckle because George had hexed the badge this morning. The 'Minister's Personal Pet' had not noticed the change of his position until now.

"George offered to have me stay," Draco said in a voice he hoped was factual. "And I said yes."

"That is wonderful, Mr. Malfoy." Percy Vanished the parchments and formed a small triangle with his fingers on the table. "Truly, it is wonderful. I haven't seen George this happy since… well, you know. I think he really likes you."

Draco nodded as if he were in slow motion. He actually believed that George did a little more than just "liking" him. And it felt good to believe in that. Whatever had grown between them over the past year did not make just George happy.

"I do like him, too," Draco said quietly. He shook Percy's hand and left him with a frown when he left the office. George was waiting in the hallway for him.

"And?" George took Draco's hand and leant down for a short kiss.

Draco had planned to play a little joke on George, but he could not stop smiling. "Percy said that I'm a free man. Am I free, George?"

"Hmm… nope." George entwined their fingers and walked confidently next to Draco Malfoy through the corridors. "You're forced to go out for dinner with me now."

"Oh…" Full of curiosity, Draco searched fruitlessly for any hints for their destination in George's face. "That sounds really horrible."

George grinned and turned his head as if to kiss Draco. "Did he notice anything?"

Draco's expectantly pursed lips quirked in confusion. When he realised what George meant he started laughing and shook his head.

"Good," George said and finally gave Draco the kiss he had been waiting for. "While you were in there I got a wonderful idea…"

"I'm _not_ wearing a pet-badge," Draco said.

"But everyone should know who you belong to!"

"I said no." Draco walked faster and dragged George after him.

"Oh, that is _so_ mean." George stopped suddenly out of nowhere. With a sudden jerk he pulled Draco against his chest. "Then I'll have to show everyone…"

Draco flushed with a prickling mixture of happiness and embarrassment when George pressed their mouths together. In front of several people, not in a moistly cellar or a place enveloped by thick darkness. This was definitely proof enough that George was actually serious about them. And Draco allowed himself to love him for this.


End file.
